Across the vast, red-dusted expanses of the Sahel, where conflict often unfolds unseen by the wider world, Mali is confronting a stark reality: the decision to dismiss key partners who once anchored the fight against regional instability carries significant repercussions.
The surge of attacks currently plaguing the nation is neither random nor predetermined by fate. Instead, these incidents are the anticipated outcome of a profound political shift, framed by Bamako as a reassertion of its sovereignty. This declared independence, bolstered by a fervent anti-French narrative, served as a powerful tool for internal validation.
Bamako sought the departure of French forces, and their wish was granted.
The final French military convoys departed from Gao, Tessalit, and Ménaka amidst public derision, fueled by years of accusatory rhetoric. At the time, the intricate operational realities seemed secondary. Little emphasis was placed on the crucial intervention in 2013, when French forces decisively halted the imminent collapse of the Malian state as jihadist columns advanced south.
President Emmanuel Macron observed with stark clarity that “Mali did not make the best decision in expelling the French army.” This straightforward, almost clinical assessment now resonates with undeniable strategic truth.
While the French President has openly acknowledged past missteps by Paris, particularly in potentially overestimating military solutions without fostering essential local political reforms, his position on one critical point remains unwavering: without French intervention, Mali faced total fragmentation. He previously affirmed this unequivocally, stating, “Without France, Mali would no longer be a unified state.”
This difficult truth now manifests with brutal force on the ground.
The reality of the terrain is indifferent to political slogans or posturing. Following the evacuation of French bases, a stark security vacuum rapidly materialized. Groups aligned with Al-Qaeda and the Islamic State swiftly capitalized on these emerging vulnerabilities. Where Operation Barkhane once contained, monitored, engaged, and gathered intelligence, Malian authorities now struggle to maintain lasting control over their territory.
Behind these recent developments lies a somber memory that must not be forgotten.
Fifty-eight French soldiers lost their lives in the Sahel.
These fifty-eight individuals fell in a conflict that was anything but abstract. They perished in Kidal, the Adrar des Ifoghas, In Delimane, on roads riddled with improvised explosive devices, during arduous nocturnal operations, under extreme temperatures, confronting a decentralized, mobile, and elusive adversary.
These soldiers were not occupiers. They were not colonial aggressors masquerading under a new guise. They were the instruments of a military commitment undertaken by the Republic to prevent the establishment of a vast terrorist sanctuary at the heart of the Sahel.
They paid the ultimate price.
Their sacrifice demands at least one thing: that their memory not be diluted by ideological oversimplifications.
Yes, France made errors. Yet, it also bore, almost single-handedly for years, a colossal military burden to preserve an already fragile regional stability.
Mali opted to dismantle this security framework in the name of a proclaimed independence. It is now confronting the direct consequences of that choice.
Emmanuel Macron’s declaration that Bamako had not made “the best decision” was not an expression of post-colonial resentment or sentimental regret. It was a pragmatic observation, now cruelly confirmed by reality: in certain parts of the world, declared sovereignty alone is insufficient to repel advancing jihadist columns.
For France, the Sahel became a theater of diplomatic attrition.
But for the French soldiers, it remains something more profound: a field of honor.
And that honor is not subject to the shifting winds of public opinion.
